


Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World...

by JoifulDreaming



Series: Too Many Beds Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Stubborn Crowley (Good Omens), Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: With so many beds, you'd have thought he could get Crowley into at least one of them.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Too Many Beds Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012956
Comments: 54
Kudos: 181





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onthedrift (on_the_drift)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_drift/gifts).



> Written in response to onthedriftinthetardis' [Worst Fanfic Prompts](https://onthedriftinthetardis.tumblr.com/post/617107400989802496/worst-fanfic-prompts): "There Were So Many Beds"
> 
> Rating may be subject to change in later chapters; I will warn if need be.

It’s been six months since the world nearly ended and they’ve reached what might be considered a comfortable sort of stalemate: a routine that they both enjoy, but is also driving them slowly mad. They don’t see one another every day, though they did at first. Parting at all caused an understandable surge of panic after so many times when they parted, never knowing if they’d come together again. But, now it’s not every day. It’s most days. Some days Crowley goes off and does some mischief of his own devising, no memo sent afterwards. He’s a free-range sort of chaos now. Some days Aziraphale feels he must open his bookshop to the public in order to still call it a bookshop at all. _And really, Crowley, it does amuse me to see you scare them off, but we should at least let them browse a little. They should know what it is I’m not going to sell to them._

They dine somewhere new every night for several weeks, Aziraphale turning a little pink as Crowley watches him even more openly than before. Sometimes Crowley even steals his fork and feeds him dessert. And, yes, he meets Crowley’s eyes just a little too pointedly as he licks the fork clean. It wouldn’t do to leave any of that delectable dish unenjoyed. If Crowley’s going to watch, well he ought to get his time’s worth out of it, right?

Eventually, they run out of new places and settle on their favorites, visiting them three times a week. Other nights are either spent in solitude or in the back of the bookshop. And, if dining nights also end in the back of the bookshop, well, it never needs to be mentioned. And if, on solitary nights, they’re both still wishing they were in more companionable silence in the back of the bookshop… Well, they never need to _say_ it, do they?

They sit closer now, on the same sofa, when they’re alone in the bookshop. They would sit closer, too, on the sofa in Crowley’s flat but it’s too uncomfortable to sit on by one’s self, let alone with company. There’s hands brushing when they walk side-by-side and thighs brushing when they sit on the sofa or a park bench. They’re like opposite magnets, really, they can’t keep from touching. Brushing, brushing, brushing. Near misses allowed to be, but none of it is deliberate. There’s no clasping, no open-hands exploring. Not even a hug at the end of the night (or early morning). Just a scuffing of feet and a good-night and then departure.

So, when Aziraphale suggests they try something new Crowley’s heart nearly leaps from his chest. Maybe he can hold the angel’s hand. Maybe he can touch his knee. That’s not too fast is it? Knee-touching?

“We could go away together.”

“Away.”

“Yes, humans do it. They call it a ‘va-cation.’“

“How far away?” _Together._

“I hear the coast is lovely this time of year. Nice cliffs for walking, new little restaurants to find for dining. Locals! We could talk to the locals.” _Together._

“And… we’d be staying together? In a.. In a… Oh, the places humans stay away from home?”

“A hotel, dear. Yes, we’d be staying together in a hotel.” They were both saying the word ‘together’ in a half-strangled sort of way, whatever that meant.

“Why not? I could cause a little havoc in a little town on the coast.”

“Oh, really. Leave the locals alone.”

“Are you going to thwart me, Angel? Little small town thwarting? For old time’s sake.”

“I’ll show you thwarting…” 

_Oh, I wish you would._


	2. Part Two

Crowley’s decided, unequ- unequivi- _for sure_ , that he’s not going to be the first one to make a final move. He’s made his feelings pretty clear, he thinks, and if the angel thinks he can be tempted by some cozy time away… It’s not, it’s just not going to happen. If Aziraphale wants something more, he needs to make it obvious on his own. And, no, sweeping them away on a trip is not a move. Especially since he’s the one doing the actual sweeping.

“We could just pop over there with our things. Or no things. We can have new things.” Crowley’s somehow been roped into carrying Aziraphale’s bags to the car and he can’t remember how this happened. Yes: bags. Bags of books. Books for their trip away together.

“New things,” Aziraphale scoffs, “why would I want new things? The things I have will do just fine.”

Crowley declines to comment, subtly making the Bentley a little bit more bigger on the inside to accommodate the last bag of books.

“Careful with that, dear.”

“ _Careful._ ” He mutters, placing it gently alongside the rest.

“Besides, if we’re going to take a human vacation we should travel the human way.”

He comes to regret that when they’re on the road and Crowley’s pushing the transcendentally-improved Bentley to triple-digit speeds. They get there in more time than it would take to pop over, but only just. Aziraphale has to peel his fingers off of the dash when Crowley cuts the engine. The Bentley takes care of the dents itself.

“Angel.”

“Yes, dear?” He’s flexing his fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them.

“This is not just a hotel.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale looks up, taking it in: the small inn practically engulfed in vines and flowers, the gardens sprawling over the yard. There are a few cars in the park with them, but not many. Really, he thinks he’s outdone himself: a cozy get-away and they have it, practically, all to themselves.

“This is a bed and breakfast.”

“Hmm, I love a good breakfast.”

“People… gather at these places.”

“Well, not many.”

“They’re going to be nosy, Angel.”

“Don’t be silly.” 

They’re out of the car now and Aziraphale is waiting for him to unload. All the books. For their cozy trip away. _Together_. And he does, because what else is there for it? He’s elected for one overnight pack, which he silently hands to Aziraphale.

Inside they’re greeted at the desk, the older lady behind it squinting up at them and then down at her book when Aziraphale gives her his name. 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley! Been expecting you, I have. Welcome to the Gilded Seashore Hotel. Your keys,” she hands them over and then gives Crowley a once-over, noticing the many bags he’s carrying- he’s elected to bring them all in one trip no matter how suspicious that looks-, “did you need some help with your luggage?”

“No, thank you dear. May I inquire? When is the morning meal?”

“ _When is the morning meal?_ ” Crowley mutters behind him, hefting the bags on his right side. Yes, he’s stronger than he looks, this is all just matter anyway and of no real bother, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“9-11am, Mr. Fell, in the room around the corner to the right. The earlier you get there, the fresher the scones!” And she winks at him. Crowley’s just sure this place is going to kill all the cool he has.

“Ah, thank you again,” Aziraphale jingles the keys and smiles widely at the woman, “the rooms?”

“Up the stairs, all the way back to the left.”

Crowley follows Aziraphale dutifully up the stairs, barely side-stepping a sizable sleeping orange tabby cat. Aziraphale’s going on about fresh scones now, with cream. And maybe there might be cocoa, too. 

They reach their desitnation and Aziraphale unlocks the door at the end of the hall and let’s them in. Crowley gently sets down the bags of books and takes it in. There are… 

“Two beds?”

“What? Oh. I didn’t pay much mind to the number of beds seeing as I probably won’t be sleeping. As long as there’s one for you…” Aziraphale has walked to a door on the opposite wall of the beds and gone through it, still talking, “and this will be you, dear.” 

Perplexed and wanting to follow the few things he’s brought- because Aziraphale is still carrying them- he follows Aziraphale. Really, he’s feeling like one of the park ducks now: follow-the-leader.

The doorway leads to a bathroom with two sinks set into a wide counter, a shower-and-clawfoot-tub combo, and a toilet. But Aziraphale is through yet another door so Crowley doesn’t pause long.

The angel has stopped in the middle of an identical, but mirror image bedroom.

“Two beds here, too.” Crowley’s not sure what else to say. He is… disappointed. But, he’s not going to let on to that.

“Well, you could sleep in one tonight and one tomorrow then. Mix it up!”

“Sure. That’s- yeah, that’s fine.”

Aziraphale has disappeared back through the bathroom and into his room, still talking about breakfast. Crowley moves to the door and shuts it as quietly as he can. He knows what he expected of this trip- or rather, what he hoped to expect- but now he’s questioning what Aziraphale’s intentions really are. Maybe it is just some time away with a friend. Maybe the dance they’ve been doing these last few months is the extent of what Aziraphale wants, after all. Maybe Aziraphale is more interested in his bags of books than he is in Crowley. 

But then, why did he bring him along?


	3. Part Three

Aziraphale went suddenly silent at the sound of Crowley’s bathroom door being shut. He hurried over and stared at it from his own doorway to the bathroom. It was really closed. His face screwed up in confused annoyance.

Yes, he’d booked them separate rooms. But… but, that didn’t mean they had to stay in them! He’d expected Crowley to slouch around in his room most of the night. Maybe he’d slink off to his own in the early hours for a nap or maybe he’d just fall asleep here with Aziraphale, like he sometimes did at the shop. It was meant to be cozy _togetherness_ , for someone’s sake!

There was a minibar in his room because he was certain there should be (though there were no bars in any other room in the hotel). They should be making use of it. Instead, he was left staring at a closed door with the rest of an empty evening ahead of him. Or… Well, perhaps Crowley just needed a little time to settle in. Maybe he’d be back. He went over to his bags to fetch a book and wait.

-

Crowley didn’t make use of either bed in his room that night. Instead, he was curled up in a suspiciously comfortable armchair by the window. No chair this floral should be this comfortable; it went against nature. The Inn had terrible cell service, but suddenly found itself with the best of high speed internet. Crowley was moodily trolling Facebook comments, stirring trouble wherever he could. 

Yes, he could just go open his side of the ensuite and swan back into Aziraphale’s room. He could do that. But, his stubbornness had set in. Together, he’d show him _together_. Separate rooms, really.

He was just leaving a disparaging comment about one person’s mother when he felt it: an electric tickling along his skin. Just this side of painful, he knew exactly what it was: an ethereal miracle was being preformed in his room. He would be more concerned, but he knew the flavor of Aziraphale’s miracles by now. What was the angel doing? After several moments of silent vigilance he shrugged and went back to his commenting. Maybe he was making himself some cocoa. It would be like the angel to not be able to wait until breakfast.

Then he shivered. Was the room getting colder?

It was! It was getting colder. He shivered again. What had…

“Oh, that’s low and devious, even for you…” Crowley got up and tried to find the AC in his room to turn it down… but there wasn’t one to turn down. He opened the window, but that did little to help. The night air was warmer, but damp, and seemed to refuse to come inside. Likewise, the ethereal cold settled around him like an invisible fog.

His stubbornness kicked into overdrive. _The nerve._

Miracling himself an electric blanket he curled up in the suspicious armchair again. The heat slowly eased his trembling muscles and seeped down into his bones. He sat for a while, contemplating his next move. Revenge, it should be. But, that was a bit too simple for Crowley. No, he had other ideas.


	4. Part 4

The next morning at 8:30 Aziraphale knocked at Crowley’s side of the ensuite. Yes, he wanted to get the freshest scones. And, yes, he wanted to share the time with the person he actually asked along on this trip. If he had to screw up a little of his dignity to get said company, well, so be it. It was a new day and he had a new store of dignity to sacrifice.

He had waited most of the night for Crowley to come visit him. He had tried to draw him out, convince him to come over of his own accord. But, frustratingly, none of it had worked. Maybe… maybe Crowley wanted some time alone.

But there was no answer at the door. When he tried the knob and found it unlocked, he went inside.

“Crowley? We should get downstairs for… breakfast.” The room and it’s two beds were empty. Not only were the beds empty, though, they didn’t appear to have been slept in. Was Crowley even in this room last night?

Deciding there was nothing for it and that he would find Crowley eventually he headed downstairs without him. In his somewhat agitated state he nearly tripped over the cat on the stairs.

“Pardon me, dear, but that’s really a terrible place to keep yourself.” The cat looked up at him, but declined to comment.

As he passed the reception desk he overhead a conversation between the young man now behind it and what he could only assume was one of the fellow patrons.

“I’m telling you, the flowers on the wall grew overnight.”

“Sir, that’s simply not possible.”

“They grew! Maybe you’ve got holographic wallpaper or something. Maybe you snuck in overnight and changed it, I’m a pretty sound sleeper. But, I know what I saw. Those vines were not that big when I went to sleep.”

“I can offer you a different room, if you like, for tonight. I’m sorry for the… flowers.”

It was a strange conversation, but not his business, so Aziraphale carried on to the dining room. It was nearly 9am now. He stopped abruptly at the door. Inside, at the head of one of the tables and… “holding court” was the only way he could think to describe it.. was Crowley, surrounded on both sides with a small gaggle of older ladies.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley waved him over, leaning over to the lady on his right, to hear her.

“Is that your man?”

“Edie, really.”

“Oh, Mr. Crowley, no one’s called me Edie since I was in my 20s…”

“Don’t look a day over 25 to me,” and he winked at her, “yes, that’s my friend. Would you mind if he sat here with me?”

Aziraphale was halfway through the room now and did not miss the exchange of terms. “Friend,” echoed around in his head.

“Of course, dear,” Edie patted Crowley’s arm and got up to sit at the other end of the table.

“Saved you a scone, Angel,” Crowley scooted the plate over to him as he sat.

“Oh, thank you.” Cranberry he could see, but the ginger inside was hidden until he took a bite. He turned to the lady at Crowley’s right, the one who had checked them in the day before. “Your recipe?”

“Oh yes, just like my grandmother made.”

“This is Gladys, and not only does she run this Inn practically single-handedly, she also keeps the grounds,” Crowley was smiling at her flirtatiously. 

“Mr. Crowley,” Gladys admonished as she blushed behind her thick spectacles, turning instead to Aziraphale, “He gives me too much credit, really. My grandson does help out here most days.”

“That was him behind the desk just now?” Aziraphale was more carefully deconstructing his scone than he was actually eating it.

“Yes, dear. That’s Philip.”

“He seemed to be having a spot of trouble with one of the lodgers.”

“Did he? Maybe I should go check on him.”

When Gladys had departed Aziraphale looked to Crowley, but Crowley wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was making a very careful study of the wood grain in the dining room table.

“I thought,” Aziraphale said, clearing his throat to break up the sudden silence, during which he could feel Edie eyeing them both, “I thought we could go in to town today. There’s a little used bookshop. Probably dusty paperbacks and the like, but there might be some treasures amongst them.”

“Well…” Crowley seemed to slither uncomfortably in place for a moment, “I already made plans before you came down.”

“Plans?” There was a bit of a whine in his voice, he could hear it, but it couldn’t be helped. This situation was spiraling out of hand.

“Yeah,” Crowley wasn’t just studying the wood grain in the table now, he was mapping it out with his fingers, “Promised Gladys I would help her out in the garden today.”

Would Crowley spend this entire trip avoiding him now? He wouldn’t ask that out loud.

“Oh… I, well I suppose I could catch up on my reading while you do that.”

“Brought plenty of books.”


	5. Part 5

Crowley truly had not intended to ditch Aziraphale the way he had. He hadn’t come downstairs bent on making friends (rather, he came down to brood over coffee very much alone), but Edie had sat with him first and asked polite questions until he started chatting. Then Gladys had joined them and he’d pulled her into the conversation. Before he knew it, he had every older lady in the Inn at his table, gabbing away with him. No, it wasn’t what he intended… but it was a lot more fun than sitting alone in his room.

The plans didn’t come into play until Gladys brought up her intention to do some gardening today since there were only a few guests and her plants seemed to be getting the idea that they were in charge of her, rather than the other way around. That had led to some lively debate amongst everyone at the table as to how to care for plants properly, with Edie insisting that a kind, gentle hand grew them best and Gladys firing back that if you did that they’d grow all over you and then smother themselves.

So, here he was now: sleeves pushed up and mud seeping into his very cool jeans. Gladys was pruning and cursing her flowers from above while Crowley was weeding and cursing her flowers from below. They had been at this already for a several hours.

“I really must thank you, Mr. Crowley. I’m afraid these old knees aren’t what they were… The weeds were starting to get the better of me.”

“Nonsense, I can feel them trembling in fear from down here. They know who I work for.”

“But, you know…,” she had stopped snipping. Crowley knew he wasn’t going to like this, “I won’t be your excuse for tomorrow.”

“Hurgh, I don’t know what you-”

“Don’t you go arguin’ with me, son. I have eyes and I have experience. And, I can see that your young man has parked himself on the porch all afternoon watching you.”

Crowley very pointedly didn’t look over at the porch. He knew that’s where Aziraphale was. He knew that’s where he had been. Every time Crowley had looked across the garden at him, Aziraphale’s nose dove back into his book. This situation was ridiculous, but now that it was happening he had no idea how to make things make sense again. He wasn’t going to say any of that to Gladys, though. So he grunted in reply. She didn’t add any more, anyway, going back to pruning as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Most humans seemed so young in comparison to his thousands of years, but some… some felt like they were actually older and more wise than he was. It was humbling… and annoying.

-

The sun was nearly to the other side of the horizon by the time Crowley became more than a spec in the greenery in the distance. Gladys patted Aziraphale’s shoulder as she passed him, getting dirt on his shoulder that made him wince internally, but he didn’t dare mention. Crowley meandered his way to the porch, almost as if pulled against his will and trying to break free.

He was a sight: shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing his dirt-stained forearms. His too-tight trousers completely caked in mud from the knees down. He had a smear of mud over his left eye.

It was the strangest sensation, like having a blade propped up right under the heart: yes, he was happy to see Crowley. He always was. But, the happier he was to see him, the more it also cut. Crowley had spent an entire day ignoring him when they were supposed to be having a trip together. So, yes, he wanted to grab him by the face and kiss him senseless, mindless of the damage those filthy hands could do to his clothes. On the other hand, he wanted to get up from his seat and go inside before Crowley met the stairs.

At an impasse, he did neither of those things. He merely stared at Crowley and waited.

“Dinner, Angel?”

Aziraphale just kept staring. He was hungry, but he was not up to sitting on the sidelines while Crowley made plans for the evening without him, too.

“Dinner and then a walk, maybe? You… you mentioned a walk by the cliffs, right?” Crowley was scratching the back of his neck now, staining it with dirt, too.


	6. Part Six

Dinner was a largely quiet affair, especially when compared with breakfast. There were plenty of conversations going on in the small dining room, but no one tried to pull either of them into the chatter. They sat side-by-side, Aziraphale trying to enjoy the roast duck and it’s beautifully seasoned vegetables, Crowley sliding more and more of his helping on to the Angel’s plate when no one was looking. Every time Aziraphale caught a glimpse of Crowley out of the corner of his eye, the demon was watching him. He wasn’t trying to hide it at all. Though, his usual look of happy adoration was a bit mired by the worried creases that sat between his eyes. Aziraphale supposed they matched the creases on his own face. He wanted to touch Crowley. He wanted to sit down and have a long conversation about what all of this meant with Crowley. Part of him was not adverse to dragging the man up the stairs and to _either_ of the beds in _either_ of their rooms and wringing it out of him with pleasuring hands. That part... well, it never did quite sit down and remain quiet, regardless of the circumstances. He would... never be so bold.

Dishes were collected by Gladys some time later and Crowley did not miss the very pointed look she gave him when she took his. The women had a way with words without using words at all. A way with looks? No wonder her plants listened to her. If Crowley were human, he was sure he’d be sweating under her glare.

“Shall we, Angel?”

“Hmm?” 

“Ready for that walk?”

“Oh, oh yes, of course.” Aziraphale rose and Crowley trailed behind him out the door and along the garden path. 

The night quickly closed in around them, dark but clear enough to be lit with an astounding amount of stars. Crowley had caught up with Aziraphale to walk side-by-side, but his eyes were fixed on the sky.

They heard the crashing of the waves against the cliffs long before they reached them, but soon enough they arrived. The land seemed to drop away in the distance into a pool of twinkling constellations. Crowley remembered them all by names they had long before humans ever lifted a their gaze to see them. It seemed to him that he could fly directly off the cliffs and be among them again. For all his talk of running away to them, he had no desire to do so without the angel to his left. What would be the point? Long ago he had surrendered to the idea that as bright and wondrous as the stars were, they were a pale comparison to the glow and warmth that came from his best friend.

They stood on the very edge of the cliffs, buffeted by a strong wind coming off the water. Humans might have found it a bit harsh, but it brushed harmlessly over them both.

“Are we alone?” Aziraphale’s words broke the silent tension that had settled over them since they left the inn, but they did nothing to dispel the awkwardness.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Could you be sure? Could you check?”

Crowley closed his eyes and concentrated. The nearest humans were back in the inn. They couldn’t be seen from here, even if they had brought a light. No one on the beach outside the normal wildlife.

“We’re alone.”

“Oh, good,” with that Aziraphale shimmied in place, bringing his wings from out of the pocket of existence in which they were kept and shook them out. Crowley’s heart lodged in his throat as he watched the angel stretch them out behind him and tilt his face to the heavens, eyes closed in quiet pleasure. His wings were as beautiful as the rest of him: white and downy even to the eyes, glowing softly with ethereal light and grace. Crowley wondered, idly, if it would hurt to touch them for any amount of time. He wouldn’t mind finding out. And if it stung, he would take the pain for the pleasure of it.

“Well?” Aziraphale was looking back at him when he managed to tear his eyes away from the glory of his feathers.

“Well?” Crowley swallowed. He knew what Aziraphale was asking, but did Aziraphale know what he was asking for?

“Could we,” Aziraphale shuffled in place for a moment, casting his eyes out over the shore and the stars above it as he searched for the right words. Crowley was only just now noticing that the moon behind him was catching on his pale hair, giving him a fuzzy halo of sorts. It did odd twisty things to his heart as he waited. “Could we just be real and solid with one another for a few minutes? Just... just a few minutes.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were clenched shut now and Crowley wondered what it was he saw behind them. Did he think there was any request he could make of Crowley that Crowley wouldn’t give him if it was at all within his power to do so?

“Well, er... Well, yes, of course we can.” Crowley pulled his own wings into existence and shook the feathers loose. The wind immediately started to stream through them, shifting and rearranging the feathers. It felt incredibly good and he couldn’t help but stretch his wings back and out as far as he could to catch more of the breeze. Not paying attention to anything but the pleasure of it meant that he felt his wing brush against Aziraphale’s more than saw it. A pleasant shudder ran through him, even from the momentary contact. He quickly pulled away before he could cause offense. But... Aziraphale’s wing followed his, brushing back against it with gentle purpose.

He turned and looked at the angel with all his questions written in the creases around the sunglasses still on his face.

“Beautiful, thank you.” Aziraphale took one last look before turning his gaze back up to the stars even as he crept a little closer, pressing their wings further together. Crowley wanted to argue that his wings were a sign of his brokenness, his fall. He wanted to pull away before the ebony they held somehow marred the glowing, white feathers. But he swallowed that down. Aziraphale could be saying all manner of berating things to him right now- and he felt he deserved that- but instead he had asked for a moment of clarity between them. If he wanted to speak such lovely things over Crowley, despite it all, who was he to argue?

They stood there in their own thoughts for a long while, even as the cool night deposited dew on everything around them. Their only acknowledgement of this was to ripple their feathers occasionally to dispel the water, managing to entangle more and more with one another. After a time, they scarcely knew what feathers belonged to which one of them and that was something beyond a pleasure.

“Ready to go back?” Crowley drew a deep breath and gave one last deep stretch of his wings. He watched Aziraphale watch them and didn’t dare place the emotions in his eyes. When he tucked them away... it had to be his imagination, but the angel’s glow seemed to dim just the tiniest bit.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Aziraphale stretched and tucked his own wings away. Crowley wondered if the same look he had just moments ago was now reflected in his eyes. They needed to be real with one another more often. “We wouldn’t want to worry Gladys.”

“I don’t doubt,” Crowley chuckled, “that she wouldn’t march right out here and haul us back inside herself.” He reached out a hand to Aziraphale, slowly and with a tilting heart that didn’t seem to want to beat correctly. Aziraphale looked at his hand for a moment and then his face. Then he clasped the hand. His hand was so much warmer and softer than Crowley’s. It was like a brush of his wing: gentle and soft around the edges. Neither of them mentioned it, but kept them clasped tightly the whole way back to the Inn.

As they got closer to the inn they noted that the porch light was still on and so was the light in one of the rooms. For a moment they saw the outline of Gladys before that light went out. Humans. 

They made their way to their rooms and before long they were standing together on Aziraphale’s side of the ensuite. Crowley pulled his fingers from Aziraphale’s with as little awkwardness as he could muster.

“Well, g’night, Angel...” He headed through the ensuite and to his room on the other side.

“Crowley, wait.” Aziraphale was standing in his doorway. Crowley turned back and raised an eyebrow. “Did you... did you make the wallpaper flowers grow in one of the other rooms?”

Crowley felt the laughter bubble up from within his lungs and spill out in spite of himself. It was a hearty laugh that left him shaking and after a moment of tutting, Aziraphale joined him in it.

“Have a good evening.” He said in to the silence that filled the momentary mirth.

“Rest well,” Aziraphale looked as if he wanted to say more, but he let the moment pass. Crowley shut his side of the ensuite and went to curl up in the suspiciously floral chair.

Aziraphale watched the door close and watched the closed door for several of the heartbeats that followed before quietly closing his. Then, thinking better of it, he left it slightly cracked before walking over to the window and staring up at the stars in quiet contemplation.


	7. Part Seven

The thing was, Aziraphale hadn’t really been thinking. The night before had done a lot to bolster him: they had been idiots, the both of them. He had not properly explained what going away together had entailed. He had given Crowley the wrong impression by getting two rooms, even though his heart had been in the right place- he had wanted there to be space if they needed it. Really, it had only given them space for more misunderstandings. The fallout had been both of them throwing passive-aggressive hissyfits. But, after last night... Aziraphale was fairly certain that they wanted the same things.

Okay, the thing was that Aziraphale was thinking and quite a lot, but he was not thinking about the right things.

Hearing the sink running in the ensuite, he pushed open his door and walked inside.

“Crowley! Good morning. Before we go to breakfast, I-” And so it took a moment for the sight that greeted him to travel from his eyes to his brain and a moment beyond that for his brain to begin processing what his eyes were seeing. Several more moments ticked by as he sputtered, trying to make words happen.

“You’re naked!” There they were, the words. And Crowley was, in fact, completely nude. Standing at the sink, one hand on the counter, the other holding his toothbrush. His hair was a dampened, darker shade of red and still whorled in various directions from not having been styled. Aziraphale made an attempt at not following the water droplets on his shoulders as they journeyed down his spine and settled at the divots of his hips before dripping to the floor. Really, he really tried. It’s just that he failed. When he managed to pull his traitorous eyes back up to Crowley’s reflection in the mirror, it was to find the demon smirking at him. And that was what did him in, at last.

He marched up to the demon who turned toward him, clasped both of his cheeks, and yanked him down for a deep, unrelenting kiss.

-

Somewhere, distantly, there was a clattering that Crowley would later realize was his toothbrush hitting the bathroom tile. He wasn’t at all concerned with the noise just now (nor was he particularly bothered later) because he had his arms full of his angel. Funny how a kiss could make him so possessive. But, Aziraphale was talking again, somehow, even though every bit of him was pressed bodily against every very naked part of Crowley.

“Infuriating man!”

“What did I do?!”

“I was coming to talk to you! And you’re, you’re just...” Aziraphale trailed off, eyes wandering downward again. He appeared to have lost his train of thought.

“You’re the one who burst into the bathroom. Sometimes people are naked in bathrooms!”

“Hmm.” 

“Focus, Angel, my eyes are up here.”

“I am focusing.” Aziraphale’s hand was on his chest and sliding down his stomach, making all of his muscles pull tight under the attention.

“Yes- well, yes that’s good focus-sing.”

“Is this okay?” His stormy eyes rose now to focus on Crowley’s. They’d barely brushed wings the night before. Held hands after that. This was a lot of touching. Naked touching. Lopsided naked touching. Why was Aziraphale still completely dressed? Aziraphale’s hand was dipping lower now and they’d both stopped breathing. 

“HOUSEKEEPING!”

Aziraphale made to jump away from him, but he grabbed him by the hips and yanked him even closer. Behind him he watched as Gladys appeared in the doorway with a stack of towels.

“Good morning, gentlemen! I see we’ve come to our senses, eh? Good on you. Just brought you some fresh towels,” these she placed on the rack above the toilet as they both watched her with wide eyes, “I’ll save you some scones Mr. Fell. See you both for tea.” And then she was gone. As if this was something completely ordinary in her life. Maybe it was. Maybe their relationship squabbles were just a buzz in the background of Gladys’ every day existence. Another pair of idiots for her to set right.

“Well, that was a bit humiliating.”

“Naaaah, at least you’ve got your clothes on.”

“Point.” Aziraphale’s hand was still pinned between them and it was wiggling now. “Now, where were we?”


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the change in rating!

They were snogging now, there was no other word for it. Hands were venturing all over, in to new territory and old; seeking out any place that would ground them or draw that noise out of the other again.

It was Aziraphale who broke the kiss first, both of them panting into each other's space, unable to stop the roaming hands even as they gave their lungs a break. He coaxed Crowley around to face the counter again, mouth trailing kisses and nips along his shoulder.

“What do you want?”

“Angel,” Crowley hardly sounded like himself; well he did, he sounded like himself when he was lost to several bottles of good wine, “there's nothing-” and here he paused when Aziraphale found the spot at the base of his neck and worried it with his teeth, “there's nothing you could ask that I wouldn't give you.”

Aziraphale pressed up close behind him, rutting against him and inwardly cursing his still-clothed state.

“I want to feel you... I want to be inside you. Is that alright?” He was back to kissing Crowley's neck, making words difficult for the demon.

“Yes,” Crowley pressed back into him, reaching back to squeeze his hip, trying to draw him closer still. Aziraphale gently took Crowley's hands and pressed them to the countertop before stepping back to disrobe. He could feel Crowley watching him in the mirror and after the few moments it took him to get his clothes off, he met his eyes in the mirror.

“Beautiful, Angel.”

Aziraphale didn't know what to say to that and so went back to touching instead. He trailed his fingers gently down Crowley's spine, watching the man beneath him arch, his muscles tensing and relaxing under the barely-there touch.

“Please, Aziraphale, please.”

“No need to beg, darling, I've got you.” Aziraphale traced his fingers along the dimples above Crowley's cheeks for a moment before miracling them slick and sliding first one and then a second inside him. Crowley whined and bucked back against him until he added a third and crooked them just right, causing him to spasm and groan.

“'m ready, 'm ready... I want to feel you, Angel.”

Aziraphale stepped in closer to him, removing his fingers and aligning himself. He took one last look up and down the trembling man before him, hardly believing this turn of events. Yes, he'd planned this trip to bring them closer... But, he hadn't expected to get this close this quickly. All misunderstandings aside, things had gone better than he had anticipated.

He slid inside Crowley in one slow, steady push and when he bottomed out at last he felt a rush air around them. Looking up he found that Crowley's wings had spontaneously popped into existence. They gave one great downward flap before rising toward the ceiling, the feathers framing Crowley's torso, trembling gently.

“Alright, dear?”

Crowley groaned unintelligibly and pressed his hips back against him. Aziraphale took that as assent and began moving inside him, leaning over him to press his chest to his back and watch his face in the mirror. Crowley's eyes were shut tight, his mouth opened; the very vision of one in almost-pained pleasure. Aziraphale had never seen something so beautiful. He gripped Crowley's hair and pulled his head back slightly, forcing the demon to open his eyes.

“Look at you,” Aziraphale was mouthing the side of his neck now, ever increasing the pace of his thrusts, “look and see what I see.” Crowley looked into the mirror, meeting Aziraphale's eyes and then his own. The yellow had completely taken over and his slits were dilated. Pink sat heavily on his cheeks and sweat had gathered at his hairline. “I've seen more artwork than any human alive, my dear, many of them fresh and in person. But, none compare to what I see right now: your pleasure-filled face wreathed in these beautiful feathers. I will remember this moment with you, always.”

Aziraphale planted his feet more firmly and started thrusting in earnest, reaching around to wrap his hand around Crowley, keeping the same pace. Crowley keened, smacking the counter beneath him, body trapped in indecision between pressing back against those hips or forward in to the hand around him. Aziraphale buried his face in the back of his neck, breathing him in and fighting for more words- not just any words, the right ones.

“I..” Oh and he was close. He hoped Crowley was near with him, thought he might be, “Crowley, I love you.” He breathed it into his neck. The effect was instantaneous: Crowley cried out as he spilled over Aziraphale's hand, shudder beneath him and squeezing tightly around him. Aziraphale thrust once, more deeply, before releasing inside him. His knees gave a great wobble and he gripped the counter on either side of Crowley.

For a time the silence was filled with panting breaths. Aziraphale stood slowly and Crowley turned to face him, kissing him sloppily. Aziraphale backed him up to the counter and lifted him there to sit, not breaking the kiss but instead pressing deeper into him and sliding his fingers into the soft hair at the back of Crowley's neck. Crowley's wings rose up and surrounded them in a black down cocoon.

“I'll never have my fill of you.” Aziraphale was rutting against Crowley, neither of them fully sated even now.

“Ngk.”

“Not that I thought I would. I just... I didn't know the half of it, love.”

Crowley whimpered at the pet name, trailing a hand down Aziraphale's stomach and taking them both in hand, stroking them slowly. Aziraphale was kissing his throat, moving along his neck and to his ear.

“I want you all of my days, however many millennia that may be,” he paused to catch Crowley's earlobe between his teeth, “I want to wake you in the morning with kisses and hold you while you sleep. I want us to tease one another and love one another in the same shared space, wherever that might be.”

Crowley whimpered loudly, spouting a few syllables that wanted, desperately, to be words of reply, but they didn't deign to form themselves. He only moved his hand more rapidly and hoped that was enough.

“I want to watch you come apart in my arms every day in so many numerous ways, Crowley. I want to take you apart and put you together and be one with, you...” He was stuttering now, close again already.

“Nuh, uh, yes! I-I wan' that.” Crowley would've been proud to have formed the words, but he could hardly think, toes curling tightly against the backs of Aziraphale's thighs as he drew close again. Aziraphale's hand joined his, coaxing his fist tighter and faster until they both came again. Gentler this time, but with no less impact- trembling in each other's arms, the cloak of shifting dark feathers hiding them from the harsh light of the bathroom.

Aziraphale slid slowly from his arms to the floor, his knees finally giving way. He wrapped his hands around Crowley's ankle and pressed soft kisses to his calf. Crowley leaned back against he mirror with a soft thump, his wings limp to either side of him.

“'ziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“I do, too.”

“Do what, darling?”

“Love you.”

Aziraphale smiled, stroking the calf in front of his face and giving it a squeeze. He was, after all this, at a loss for words at last.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of an epilogue, but this is the end for this story. Hope you've enjoyed!

Previously...

_Aziraphale slid slowly from his arms to the floor, his knees finally giving way. He wrapped his hands around Crowley’s ankle and pressed soft kisses to his calf. Crowley leaned back against he mirror with a soft thump, his wings limp to either side of him._

_“'ziraphale?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“I do, too.”_

_“Do what, darling?”_

_“Love you.”_

_Aziraphale smiled, stroking the calf in front of his face and giving it a squeeze. He was, after all this, at a loss for words at last._

Aziraphale does finally find his feet again and when he does, he helps Crowley peel himself away from the mirror. Tempts him, really, with soft kisses as he draws away, meaning Crowley has to follow him for more. He follows, of course. Crowley laughs as Aziraphale pulls him to the shower, having just left it himself. But, he’ll follow the angel anywhere, even if it means extra pruney fingers. This has always been the case, but also never more than now. His heart is somehow both heavy with the weight of the feeling and light with the newfound ability to express it.

Inside the shower, hands start off helping one another bathe before slowly beginning to roam and explore. They bring each other to quieter, gentler ends before merely holding each other under the spray. The hot water doesn’t run out because they don’t even entertain the idea that it should. Afterwards, they dry off separately, still stealing glances and winks, before wandering off to their own rooms to reluctantly put on some clothes. Time has become a viscous liquid around them, seeming to slow and draw out; to stretch out until neither of them is sure where the sun will be when they peer outside.

Crowley returns to Aziraphale’s room first, having less layers to contend with, and finds him tying his bowtie. The immediate urge to divest him of it and everything else slithers through his body like an electric shock. He wonders if it will always be like this. But, it has always been this way, hasn’t it? Only he can indulge it now: sink down into the heat of it and live there, guilt-free. Aziraphale turns and meets his eyes, his smile going lopsided into a smirk.

“We musn’t miss teatime, my dear.” He gestures to a note he’s left on the table beside the door, “I think someone slipped this under our door while we were... occupied.” It reads that tea will be served in the sunroom instead of the dinning room and that it will be... well, now.

-

They reach the sunroom just as Edie is pouring four cups of tea and Gladys is carrying in a tray of biscuits. 

“There’s our boys, hmm?” Edie pats Crowley’s cheek as she passes him on the way to an over-stuffed armchair. Gladys takes the one across from her, which leaves the loveseat for the two of them. It feels a bit like a trap and makes them both a little antsy. But, their hosts have been nothing but kind to both of them, so they take a seat. Their thighs brush one another due to the lack of space and they blush when reaching for their tea, arms nearly entangling.

Gladys is sat back in her chair, tea in hand, watching them with a smile.

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I don’t have anyone else lined up for those rooms at the moment. Or, you could just hang on to one of them.” There’s a teasing sparkle in her eye. Which, there would be with what she walked into, wouldn’t there? But the sparkle is shared by Edie who isn’t looking at them, smirking into her teacup instead. 

Crowley leans forward and plucks up a biscuit, handing it to Aziraphale so he has an excuse to give him a raised eyebrow.

“That’s very kind of you, but I really should be getting back to my shop. And Crowley has his own plants to frighten.” Gladys chuckles at this and Edie throws her an exasperated look.

“If you’re sure-”

“Do say you’ll be back though?” Edie has cut her off, peering at them with sincere, wide eyes. It kind of drops in Crowley’s lap suddenly: they really care about the two of them. He’s not sure how to feel about suddenly coming into possession of two grandmothers. It makes his already quivering heart grow a bit bigger, feeling like it takes up more room than his chest can provide.

“You couldn’t keep us away if you tried.” Aziraphale glances at him sharply as his voice comes out a bit rough around the edges and then gently pats his knee to comfort him. Crowley places his hand over Aziraphale’s to keep it where it is. Family, he thinks, can be found in the strangest of places: sometimes it’s two hereditary enemies and a couple of spitfire elderly match-makers.

-

They return to their rooms to pack and Crowley comes back with his one bag only to find Aziraphale nearly bent over double laughing.

“What the devil’s got in to you, then?”

“Crowley,” and Aziraphale has to sniff and wipe his eye before he goes on, “Of all the beds in all the hotels in all the world... I had _four_ beds and I never even got you into _one_ of them!”

Crowley looks at the two beds in Aziraphale’s room and then back at him before bursting into giggles himself.

-

The sun is setting by the time Crowley gets the last of Aziraphale’s bags in the Bentley. They’ve both been dragging their feet in leaving: Crowley by helping Gladys with the plants strewn around her sunroom, learning just as much from her as he provides assistance. Aziraphale sharing quiet time on the porch, reading next to Edie, who keeps his teacup full, somehow, even though he never sees her leave and come back. 

In the end, though, they do say their goodbyes. Each receives a kiss on the cheek and an admonishment to take care of one another before the ladies walk back up to the porch to watch them go. They wave as they drive off.

-

Edie moves behind Gladys as the dust settles in their lot, the Bentley truly out of sight now, and wraps her arms around her.

“You think they’ll be okay?” She rests her chin on Gladys’ shoulder.

“I think,” Gladys pats the hands on her belly before leaving hers overtop, “Well, I hope. If we could get over ourselves and keep one another, I think I can believe in them, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the end really has nothing to do with the plot... But, I realized that I totally shipped Gladys and Edie. Then I realized that it's my story and I can make it so that everyone's gay and nothing hurts if I want to. ;)


End file.
